


Glaring vs Staring: Newt needs to learn the difference

by Squishychickies



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, Chuck Lives, Fluff, M/M, Minho Ships It, Newt Lives, redo/fix-it, takes place in paradise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 12:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishychickies/pseuds/Squishychickies
Summary: On a drunken night in Paradise, Newt thinks Thomas is angry with him, while Thomas is just drunk and clueless.





	Glaring vs Staring: Newt needs to learn the difference

Thomas glared at Newt until the blond was sure he was about to burst into flames. “What?” He demanded after a minute, throwing his hands in the air. Newt didn't recall having done something to piss off his friend, though he supposed it was possible Thomas was just getting annoyed at Newt’s constant touching. Brushing their hands together, giving him hugs each morning when they saw each other, messing up his hair or squeezing his shoulder were all things Newt did on a normal basis, and he'd understand why it could upset Thomas. But surely, the brunette would just tell Newt to stop instead of staring him down like this. It made him nervous, to say the least.  
Thomas jumped as though he’d been snapped out a trance. His face quickly turned red and he looked away. “Nothing, sorry,” he said quickly, and left Newt reeling. What was that all about, he wondered. Weird.  
Newt decided to brush off the wondering worry (and hurt, though he wouldn't admit that) and turned around to chat with Minho and Frypan, who were arguing about Minho’s midnight snacking habits.  
“I don't get why you can't just ask me to make you something before bed so you can just grab it from the kitchen when you want it without having to wake me up!”  
“But it's less good when it's not fresh, you slinthead. Besides, you sleep in anyways, you're not losing your precious beauty sleep either way!”  
“Yes, I am!”  
Everyone was gathered around a bonfire, much like they had been on Thomas’ first night in the glade. Logs were arranged in a circle around it so everyone could sit down and be warm, and the whole thing was situated on the beach where it would never be hit by the tide, but it was still close enough to be on the soft sand. Even though it was quite a spacious circle of logs, Thomas and Newt shared one, sitting barely an inch apart. And nobody else wanted to sit by them either, so the other logs were overcrowded. Thomas and Newt tried to convince others to sit with them, they didn't mind sharing, but everyone they asked just smiled and shook their head, laughing. Minho even winked at Newt, for some reason.  
Throughout the rest of the night, Thomas barely replied to Newt when he spoke, just using quick one-word answers and then turning away with his face red. Newt was beyond confused, and at this point, a little hurt. At one point he just gave up.  
“Fine, Tommy. I'm sorry, okay?”  
Thomas looked horrified, and tried to stutter out a response. “Newt, no, it's not, I didn't mean, I--”  
But Newt had already turned away with a stony face, and the two didn't talk that night as they entered the hut where all the former gladers including Chuck, Frypan, Newt, Thomas, and Minho slept. As they settled into their hammocks Thomas opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing ever came out.

-

The next morning, Newt woke up after Thomas. He pulled on a shirt and headed out to Frypan’s hut (it was the only one with a kitchen and dining room) for breakfast. Typically he would hug Thomas and then sit down next to him, but today Newt elected to sit down next to Chuck and Minho, ignoring Thomas’ expectant and then disappointed face. Sorry, Tommy, but I’m not going to grovel just because you’re mad at me. 

Chuck glanced at Newt, and then Thomas, and then back again. “Aren’t ya gonna sit by him?” Chuck asked, his mouth full of food. “No,” Neet replied firmly, making it clear that the conversation was over. 

Chuck glanced at Thomas again, who was using his fork to stir around his food without really eating anything. Newt felt a shred of pity, but pushed it away. “Aww,” Chuck said to Newt in an almost pleading voice. “But he’s sad now!”

Newt chose to ignore his own nagging sadness. “I don't care,” he asserted firmly. “He was the one bloody glaring at me like he hates me or something.”

Chuck looked thoughtful for a moment. It was an odd look on the typically aloof kid. “Be right back,” he said before running away like his ass was on fire. As expected, he plunked down in a seat next to Thomas, bumping into Frypan and almost knocking over the cook’s precariously perched plates full of food in the process.  
Chuck and Thomas conferred for a moment, Thomas glaring at Chuck with an intensity Newt wouldn't have thought possible. Thomas whispered something into Chuck’s ear after punching him in the shoulder (gently, of course), but instead of whining, Chuck glanced over at Newt and then turned back to Thomas, whose face was the color of a fire truck. The younger boy started making kissy faces, and received another punch from Thomas, who shoved him off the seat. Chuck got up from the floor and sat back down by Newt, promptly beginning to squeal like an excited Sonya. “Guess what, Newt! Thomas doesn't hate you! He--” Chuck announced, freezing. “Oops! Sorry! Can't tell! Bye!” At that, the chubby boy practically danced out of the room, leaving Newt even more confused than he'd been a minute ago.  
By mid afternoon, Thomas still hadn’t talked to Newt, and Newt was sulking. Even though he didn't say anything, Minho picked up on it immediately. “Duuuuude,” Minho said, poking Newt’s shoulder. Newt grunted. “Duuuuuude!” He repeated. Newt grunted a little louder.  
“Dude what's up with you? You've been acting weird since last night!” Newt grunted again, this time adding a shrug.  
Newt and Minho were working on removing a tree trunk from the area by the camp. The survivors had chopped down the tree to build huts, but the trunk was right in the middle of camp, and at least five people had tripped on it. Newt wielded a shovel and Minho an axe, but they were hardly making progress because of Newt’s sulking.  
“Is this about Tommy?” Minho asked. He put on a sing-songy lovestruck voice with a hint of a British accent when he said ‘Tommy,’ and Newt got even more annoyed. He definitely wasn't responding now. He grunted yet again, his face red.  
Minho shrieked, much like Chuck had earlier. “So it is! What's wrong, you two get in a fight or something?”  
Newt gave up resisting. He dropped his shovel and flopped to the ground, laying on his stomach on the dirt floor. “I don't know,” he whined. “We were friends one minute but then he was glaring at me and I don't know what I did and now he's not talking to meee!”  
Minho flopped next to him, although sitting up. He thought for a moment. “Did you do anything?”  
“NO!” Newt yelled in frustration. “That's why I'm so bloody confused! Why won't he love meeeee?”  
Though Newt had never officially told Minho about his crush, it was pretty obvious to them both despite Newt denying it profusely. “AHA!” Minho yelled in victory, slapping Newt on the back. “So you want him to loooove you!”  
“Well I mean, I want all my friends to love me! Platonically!” Newt protested, but it was too late. Minho was already cooing and awwing at Newt. “You looove Tommy. How sweet. But he loves you too, you realize that?”  
Newt laid facedown in the dirt. “No he doesn't,” he whined, his voice muffled by the odd position.  
“Yes he does. Let me prove it,” Minho asserted, and before Newt could protest, he was calling Chuck over to the scene.  
Chuck ran up to them, out of breath from the jog. “Yeah, Minho?” He asked. “Does Thomas like Newt?” Chuck looked horrified. “How'd you find out!? Thomas will be sooo mad at me, oh my gosh, I mean, uh, no. No he doesn't.”  
Minho shot a knowing smirk over at Newt, who refused to look. He was sure it had ‘I told you so’ written all over it. Chuck looked appalled. “You promise you won't tell Thomas I told?”  
Minho winked and made a gesture of zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. “Not to worry, Chuckie. Minho’s got this all under control.” Both Newt and Chuck cringed, and Chuck ran back over to where he'd been helping Thomas with something or other.  
“See!” Minho said. Newt looked up from the dirt, just a little. “But why was he mad?” Newt asked, miserable.  
Minho thought for a moment. “Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just checking you out, you know, very intensely.” Newt considered. “But why would he-- oh. OOOH.”  
That night had been pretty crazy. Newt had been off his ass drunk along with the majority of those at the campfire. He’d tripped while carrying a drink and it had sloshed all over his shirt, leading him to take it off. So Thomas was staring at me without my shirt.  
Newt smacked his face back down into the dirt. “I didn't have a shirt on,” he mumbled. Somehow, this detail had only just now come back to him. He must have been drunker than he'd thought.  
“What was that again?” Minho asked. Newt’s voice had been too muffled by the dirt. “I said I didn't have my bloody shirt on,” Newt snapped, beginning to sit up. Minho’s face lit up.  
“Oh my god, that's shucking priceless. Price-less.” He choked out between laughs, holding his stomach. Minho was in hysterics for a good five minutes before he yelled, “THOMAS! GET YOUR SHUCK ASS OVER HERE!”  
Newt panicked as Thomas started walking over, brushing the dirt off himself frantically. Oh my god, he's gonna see me covered in dirt, holy shuck.  
“What’d’ja need, Minho?” Thomas asked nonchalantly. Newt noticed that he was trying very hard not to look at him. “Ah, not much,” Minho said, smirking over at Newt. “Newt was just feeling a little sad. I think he needs reassurance,”  
Thomas stepped back. “Reassurance?” He asked, looking nervous suddenly. “Yeah,” Minho confirmed evilly. “It's cuz he doesn't think you like him anymore. Maybe he thinks you'd rather date Brenda or me.”  
Thomas’ face reddened, as Minho walked away, announcing he'd leave them be. He awkwardly sat down against the stump next to Newt, who was currently wishing he remembered what was involved in tying a noose. What he wouldn't give to just die, right then and there.  
“Uh,” Thomas mumbled. “Uh, I don't want to date Brenda. And especially not Minho.” Newt grunted.  
“And uh, I don't know, I don't want you to be sad,” he continued awkwardly. Newt grunted again.  
“Why not, Tommy. Were you mad at me last night?” Newt asked. He didn't want to admit how much this had been worrying him. Thomas looked horrified. “No!” He said, louder than he should have. “I wasn't. I was just…”  
“Just what?” Newt asked. He was this close to uncovering something, he knew it. He wasn't gonna take Minho’s word for it, that's for sure. He had to find out for himself if his theory was true.  
“Looking at you?” He mumbled. Thomas looked like he, too, would enjoy learning how to tie a noose or skydiving attached to an elephant. Newt had never seen the poor guy more embarrassed.  
“I--” Newt started, but couldn't find the words to continue, because Thomas did it for him.  
“Would it be okay if I kissed you?”  
Newt nodded, and their lips came together. It was short and sweet, and left Newt longing for more. He scooted closer to Thomas, setting his head on the other boy’s shoulder. “I like you, Tommy,” Newt whispered. “I like you too,” Thomas said. Newt sighed, content. Suddenly, there was cheering.  
Minho and Chuck popped out from behind a house, cheering and clapping. Minho was even jumping up and down like a cheerleader, squealing. “Finally!” He yelled, wolf-whistling.  
Newt sighed again. “Why did we tell them?” He asked himself, shoving his face deep into the crook of Thomas’ neck. Thomas chuckled and sighed. “I don't even know.”


End file.
